


My Blurry Lines, My Messy Life

by Frea_O



Series: Mine for Safekeeping [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Domestic, F/F, Genetically Engineered Beings, Kid Fic, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frea_O/pseuds/Frea_O
Summary: Their lives have been a mess for so long. It’s bound to catch up with them. Now they just have to deal.(Five times Jemma and Daisy wake each other up and one time Tony does.)





	My Blurry Lines, My Messy Life

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are, folks! I've plumbed _Everything Changes_ for one final title, and off we go. Thanks for coming along on this ride! Also thanks to fandomnerd for being amazing and coming up with half the scenarios in this fic, and to Kaleidoscopes and Carousels for the cheerleading.

**_1\. A-Snore-Able_ **

Six days after coming home from the future, Daisy woke to screaming. Since coming home from the future had also involved abducting an infant that she’d now adopted as her son, waking up to screaming wasn’t unusual.

Tonight, however, the source changed.

She was on her feet and off the mattress before the sound fully registered. “Jemma!”

Jemma’s screaming only continued. Daisy glanced once at the bassinet beside her bed to check on Tony before she darted across the room. She burst into the hall as Jemma screamed again, sounding genuinely scared out of her mind. Twisting the knob on her bedroom door did nothing.

Daisy blasted it open without a thought.

She rushed in, ready to quake any attackers to oblivion. She found only Jemma, upright in bed with her hands locked close to her ears and her eyes wild. The terrified screaming didn’t abate. Daisy raced over. “Jemma! Jemma, it’s okay, it’s only a nightmare. Jemma!”

Tony, back in Daisy’s bedroom, chose that moment to start wailing. Daisy checked over her shoulder, just to make sure attackers hadn’t used Jemma’s terror to sneak in and grab him. One problem at a time. Jemma’s terror took priority now. She shook her friend’s shoulder. “Hey. It’s me. Jemma, it’s me. Come on, you’re all right. Just a bad dream. Snap out of it.”

Jemma stopped screaming, but only because she began to hyperventilate. She still had her hands close to her ears, fingers spread, like she’d been overwhelmed by a loud noise.

No, Daisy realized. The opposite of that.

She hadn’t done her reading on what to do with sleep paralysis or terror or whatever. Was she supposed to just let this pass? Step back? Try to snap her out of it? She seemed legitimately frightened beyond the point of all cognizance, and it hurt Daisy’s heart to even think about letting her remain in that state.

Biting her lip, she took a chance and clapped her hands close to Jemma’s ear, as loudly as she could.

Jemma jolted, flinching away from her like a cornered animal. But she blinked and the thousand yard stare disappeared. Two gasping breaths later, she lowered her trembling hands. “Daisy?”

“You’re back,” Daisy said, insides going shaky with relief. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“I…” Jemma looked about her muzzily, no doubt drinking in the fact that she was in the generic little bedroom in the generic little house Bobbi had secured for them while they sorted out their business and got their feet back under them. When Tony let out a particularly loud wail, Jemma’s eyes went sharp. She started to push the covers back. “Tony—”

“No, stay here. I’ve got him. You just—I don’t know, breathe or whatever.” Daisy squeezed Jemma’s shoulder before padding off to collect their kid.

He’d gone from upset cries to outright screaming by the time Daisy retrieved him from the bassinet. The wet diaper would’ve woken him up before long, she noticed immediately. She made shh-shh-shh noises as she carted him to the little diaper-changing station they’d tucked into an alcove in the hallway. Peeling him out of the onesie took some doing, as Tony wanted to broadcast his distress to the world at the loudest volume possible, his tiny arms and legs waving stiffly.

“If he’s too loud, I can take him downstairs,” Daisy said to the open doorway to her left. “You could go back to sleep.”

“No, no,” Jemma said. She still sat up in bed, but she’d wrapped her arms around her legs and she had her forehead resting on her knees. Her bedside lamp illuminated her neck and shoulders, which were still moving with the labored breathing. “Please don’t. It helps—it helps to hear him. I like hearing him.”

“Good thing he’s got an amazing set of lungs, then,” Daisy said. Tony’s face turned a little purple as he screamed his displeasure at that. “Don’t you, big man? Are you gonna grow up to be a rock star? Is this just you practicing? You’re a little out of tune, but we can work with that. And just think, someday I’ll be able to help you out with your eyeliner game. Aren’t you lucky? Yes, you are.”

She thought the tremor in Jemma’s shoulders might have been a suppressed laugh.

Tony had no interest in being placated. He wailed when Daisy tucked him back into his rubber ducky pajamas. He keened as she held him in one arm while she heated the bottle Jemma had left for him in the fridge. He alternated sobbing and eating from the bottle as Daisy paced around the hallway and their bedrooms. And he cried after pushing the bottle away, right up until he fell asleep.

Daisy nudged the bassinet over to Jemma’s bedroom with her foot, mindful of the now sleeping Tony. She’d been less gentle with armed warheads than she was now, easing him into the bassinet. Warily, she crept back, wincing nervously.

Tony slept on.

“Thank god,” Daisy whispered, finally turning to look at her friend. She’d remained still, still hugging her legs with her forehead on her knee. If not for the tension evident in her shoulders, Daisy would have suspected she’d fallen asleep like that.

“I had a nightmare,” Jemma whispered. “I was back on the station. And Kasius was there and—and I woke up, and I couldn’t hear and…”

She hiccupped and wiped away a tear.

“It was _so_ quiet,” she said. “I’m fine now, but I woke up and I thought the silence was back, and I panicked. And I woke you and Tony, and I’ve ruined your night. I’m so sorry.”

“Waking up to screaming in the middle of the night and not having to immediately fight ninjas is a luxury,” Daisy said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She rubbed Jemma’s shoulder. “Do you realize how rare that is? If anything, you’ve given me a gift.”

It was a stupid and corny thing to say, but it coaxed a smile out of Jemma. Daisy could push all the uncharitable longing to go back to sleep aside for that.

“I’ll take the rest of the night,” Jemma whispered, finally looking up so that she could peer at the bassinet. “You could get some uninterrupted sleep, at least. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep again.”

“Maybe you should use a white noise app?” Daisy asked. “Just so you don’t wake up to absolute quiet again.” Bobbi had found them homes in a peaceful suburb, which was a nice thing, but it was a marked change from living among the hum of generators and oxygen filters for weeks.

“I don’t think I should.” Jemma finger combed her hair back. “There was a sort of white noise, sometimes, when Kasius had the link active but he wasn’t speaking. I could hear it in the pauses. I think it might make things worse.”

Daisy wished, not for the first time that week, that she could go back and kill Kasius all over again. Make it hurt more this time.

She considered her options. “Budge over,” she said.

“What?” Jemma obeyed automatically, scooting to the other side of the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.” Daisy tiptoed around the bassinet and collected her pillow and phone from her room. She climbed in beside Jemma, shrugging at the incredulous look her friend slanted her way. “You’re always telling me I snore. Well, you’re welcome.”

“It’s more of a wheeze, if anything, and I think it’s cute.”

“Cute wheeze, at your service,” Daisy said, deciding to ignore how that filled her with warmth. She settled in, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Lay down and get some sleep before Mr. Antoine Bellis Johnson-Simmons figures out we’re still up and the gig is up, will you?”

They’d bunked together whenever roommates were required on missions, so much that sharing a bed didn’t fill Daisy with the dread it might have otherwise. She didn’t feel the need to sidle as close to the edge of the bed as possible; neither of them sleep-cuddled and they’d never woken up to awkward spooning. If anything, she was more likely to wake up with Jemma’s knee pressing uncomfortably into her back, as Daisy sprawled in her sleep and Jemma stubbornly did not cede territory, even when not awake. All she cared about now was that she felt Jemma finally relax.

“Of all the possibilities Kasius had for mixing my DNA with somebody,” Jemma whispered, “I’m glad he picked you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls willing to snore in your ear,” Daisy said, not opening her eyes.

“And I mean it every time,” Jemma said, and by the end of her sentence, Daisy could tell she’d fallen asleep.

 

**_2\. #NoFilter_ **

A long day of meetings and bureaucracy dragged at Jemma’s limbs as she let herself into her temporary home. Typically, she loved bureaucracy, as at its core it was all about organization and sorting and Jemma’s ordered soul loved both of those things immensely, but today had been a trial in far too many ways to count. She would have to find an excuse to drive to the office on her own tomorrow, she determined, to avoid the long and charged silence of commuting with Fitz. And she needed to find at least a small tree or two to spruce up the office she’d been given in SHIELD’s temporary new setup.

Spruce. Her inadvertent pun made her smile despite herself.

She didn’t call out to Daisy when she stepped inside, for fear that Tony was down for a nap. Since they weren’t sure they would be staying in the area—the Playground was now defunct—they’d elected not to seek out childcare options and were instead splitting their time. Jemma had taken the morning shift so Daisy could meet May for some much needed sparring, leaving Daisy to care for Tony all afternoon while Jemma worked at sorting out the remnants of SHIELD’s R&D and science divisions.

Given the mess that everything had found itself in, she’d have preferred to stay with Tony. At least he was cute, unlike the stone-faced agent she’d been talking to on the video link all day.

She checked upstairs, frowning at the empty bassinet and Daisy’s equally empty bedroom. Not that Daisy actually slept there much these days. If they stayed in the area much longer, they should probably look into converting the space into a nursery. Though she wasn’t sure either was ready for him to have his own room quite yet.

She checked her text messages as she trotted back downstairs, frowning when there was nothing from Daisy. If she’d gone out, surely she should have let Jemma know?

Jemma pulled up short at the sight of the couch. Oh. She hadn’t gone out.

And oh, wasn’t that darling?

Daisy had apparently decided to get a little work done from the recliner, for she had her laptop open. The fingers of one hand even still rested on the keys. The other hand, though, was wrapped around Tony’s bottom, holding the infant to her chest.

Both were deeply asleep. Their wheezing matched.

Jemma carefully set her purse on the couch, covering her mouth to keep an awed and happy noise from escaping. Her chest almost physically ached from the sheer adorability of the scene before her.

Unashamed, she snapped a picture and sent it to most of the team. She crept closer to get a better shot.

“I know what you’re doing,” Daisy said without opening her eyes. Her voice had gone gravelly with sleep. “If you use those shots for blackmail, understand that turnabout is fair play.”

“Why would I blackmail you? This is adorable.” Jemma obligingly held out her phone.

Daisy cracked one eye open to look at the screen, then closed it with a drowsy smile. “Okay, that’s pretty cute.”

“Go back to your nap.”

“Need to cook dinner,” Daisy said.

“I can do that. I think it’s more important for you to remain a mattress at the moment. Though—how long has he been asleep? He might be up all night.”

“He sleeps as long as he sleeps, Simmons. We are but servants to his whims at this point. Bow before the tiny king.”

Jemma, about to argue that it was never too early to begin establishing schedules, decided to maybe let that one go. “If you say so. What do you want for dinner?”

“Carbs. All the carbs. My entire body hurts. May was a little light on the mercy today and I walked like five miles getting his highness to settle down.”

“Pasta it is,” Jemma said, finally rising to her feet.

On the way to the kitchen, she set the picture to her phone background. It had been of her and Fitz before, but the pain of their separation—break, break-up, she had no idea—had inspired her to reset the background to factory settings, a move that had felt more final than anything else in her life. This change, though, felt almost hopeful.

Humming to herself, she went to make dinner.

 

**_3\. Nursery Crimes_ **

“What language is this? This isn’t Spanish. I speak some Spanish and this is not that.” Daisy held up the instructions to the light from the window as though more illumination would literally allow the words to change. When it did not, she growled under her breath.

“It’s Czech,” Elena said.

“You speak that, right?”

Elena snorted. “No.”

Mack, standing in the doorway, scratched the back of his head as he studied the piles on the floor. Daisy had spent an hour trying to sort things out logically, but she feared her attempts at logic probably befuddled mechanics like Mack. “The good thing is we shouldn’t need instructions,” he said, setting his toolbox on the floor. “We’re three very smart people. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Elena muttered something under her breath that Daisy didn’t even need her limited Spanish to understand.

“Okay, but we have to be quiet about it,” Daisy said, glancing toward the doorway. She’d foisted Tony off on May for a couple of hours, but: “Simmons is taking a nap and I want this to be a surprise for her.”

Both Daisy and Mack turned to look at Elena hopefully.

She held up both hands. “Nope,” she said. “I’m not doing all the work here while you slowpokes stand around flapping your jaws all day.”

“It was worth a shot,” Daisy said as she crouched to sort through the pieces of the crib. Or what she hoped would be the crib. What she’d anticipated to be a simple afternoon’s DIY project—the website had promised that this was the Maserati of cribs, and Daisy was beginning to suspect that was a lie, as Maseratis tended to come preassembled—had rapidly spiraled out of control, to the point where she’d broken down and called the best mechanic she knew.

He probably would’ve had an easier time with the Maserati.

“This is one of the slats, right?” she asked, holding up a piece.

Elena eyed it. “It could be a leg.”

“It’s a crib,” Mack said twenty minutes later when they’d connected precisely two pieces, and Daisy suspected they’d done that incorrectly. “It shouldn’t be this complicated.”

“That’s why I called you,” Daisy said. “I figured you put one together for Hope in the Framework. You’d have experience.”

“I did, and it wasn’t anything like this,” Mack said. “Are you sure this is a crib and not a logic puzzle designed by sadists?”

“At this point, I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t we call somebody who knows Czech to come read the instructions?” Elena asked, sipping the Corona she’d yo-yo’d down to the kitchen to grab while Daisy’s back had been turned. “May speaks Czech.”

“No,” Daisy and Mack said together. They locked eyes, obviously in agreement.

Melinda May would never let them live it down if they were defeated by a child’s crib.

“Fine. Then what about Coulson? Does he speak Czech?”

The answer to that turned out to be no, but Coulson was all too happy to come over and lend a hand. And when that proved useless (“Are we sure this is a crib and not a spaceship?”), they called Fitz. Who also did not speak Czech.

“You should have called the engineer in from the start,” he told Daisy with a scoff, gamely rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll have this fixed up right quick. Maybe you should fetch us some celebratory beers.”

Half an hour later, the beers had gathered condensation that soaked their labels, but they remained unopened as five adults stared in frustration at the mass of wood and metal that Fitz had constructed. It was actually kind of pretty. Like some post-modernist sculpture, Daisy could admit.

Unfortunately, said sculpture did not resemble a crib in any way.

“As far as I see it,” Coulson said, looking traitorously close to laughter, “we have two options. We ask May to come read us the instructions, or Fitz, Mack, and I go to the hardware store and fetch supplies to build a crib from scratch.”

Daisy immediately passed over her Amex. “I don’t know much about hardwood and babies, but pick something as hypoallergenic as possible? Or we’ll never hear the end of it from Simmons.”

“Never hear the end of what from Simmons?” said a voice behind her, and everybody in the room went absolutely still. As one, five guilty adults turned away from the not-crib to face a baffled Jemma Simmons, who was finger combing away bedhead from her nap. She gave them all a puzzled look before her eyes fell on the…thing in the center of the room. “What is that?”

“Um.” Daisy made a feeble attempt at jazz hands. “It’s a crib. Surprise?”

Jemma’s look turned abruptly aghast. “We’re never putting Tony in that,” she said, drawing back in horror.

“Not even for the holiday cards? Just think of the existential nightmares we could create and—okay, okay, not that funny, I get it.”

“Where _is_ Tony? And what’s going on?”

“May has him,” Daisy said as Elena chimed in, “They’re cowards who refuse to ask May for help deciphering the Czech instructions.”

She toasted them with a margarita this time. Daisy was pretty sure it had been a mai tai a second ago.

“I notice you haven’t exactly been volunteering either,” Fitz said.

“Want me to go get her? Because I will,” Elena said.

“No!” This came from everybody in the room, even Jemma.

As one, they all turned to look at Jemma in surprise. “I’m sure we can figure this out,” she said. “We’re all smart and competent people. Let me see if I can puzzle anything out. I once spent three weeks in Prague, that might help.”

She took the instructions from Coulson and frowned in concentration. The pajamas and the studious expression made this peak adorable Jemma. Daisy looked down quickly in case anybody could decipher her thoughts.

“I can’t understand much of this, but I think I’ve got the gist,” Jemma said. She looked around at the mess of tools and spare parts on the floor, obviously mentally calculating. “Where’s the second box?”

“Second box?” Daisy asked.

Mack abruptly sat down in the little recliner they’d found at a yard sale, laughing so hard he doubled over. “I think I figured out what our problem is,” he said.

In short order, the second box was located in the back of Daisy’s car. She spent the rest of the process, which Fitz and Jemma directed with ease, taking the ribbing good-naturedly. It was deserved.

Before long, a very solid, adorable crib stood in the middle of Daisy’s old bedroom. As the six of them clinked their warm beer bottles together, they all agreed: May must never know what had transpired in that nursery.

 

**_4\. Panic! At the Disco(very That Motherhood is for Life)_ **

“Simmons. Simmons.” Somebody—somebody that smelled like the jasmine lotion Daisy used after every post-workout shower, so no mystery as to who that could be—shook Jemma’s shoulder.

Jemma grumbled and tried to move away. “Five more minutes.”

“Simmons. I need you to listen to me.”

Why on earth Daisy used her last name when they’d literally been sharing a bed for over two months, Jemma had no earthly idea. Just like she hadn’t the first clue why Daisy would be shaking her awake. “S’Tony okay?” she asked, mumbling it into her pillow.

“He’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Is anything on fire?” Jemma pushed her face into the pillow. Her alarm felt like it was going off earlier and earlier these days, and sheer weariness dragged at her limbs.

“Nothing’s on fire. I just—” Daisy made a noise that sounded a bit like she was trying and failing to find words. They came out in a rush: “ _I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing_.”

The tone finally cut through the fog of sleepiness. Jemma groaned and turned on her bedside lamp. It was worse than she feared, she discovered when she rolled over. Daisy was sitting up on her side of the bed, cross-legged. Her eyes had grown to the size of dessert plates. Sweat gathered on her forehead, and her breathing remained shallow.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not cut out to be a mom!” Daisy’s eyes had gone absolutely glassy with terror. “I never had a mom! And then when I did, she tried to kill me. What if I try to kill Tony? What if that’s the only maternal thing about me?”

Jemma bit her tongue before she could say “Don’t be ridiculous.” After Maveth, she could recognize a panic attack at a thousand paces, and Daisy was a lot closer than that. Literally and emotionally. “What brought this on?” she said instead.

Daisy gave her an incredulous look and wordlessly gestured in the direction of Tony’s nursery. “We have a baby!”

“Yes, that’s something that’s been evident for two months now.”

“We’re SHIELD agents. The only consistent thing about our lives is that they’re inconsistent and we’re in danger every Tuesday. And now there is—there’s a small child and he’s literally the most helpless creature I’ve ever seen, and he’s depending on us.” The words tumbled on top of one another. Daisy’s hands beat a frantic, staccato tempo against her pajama pants. “And he’s going to grow up and be less dependent and what if I look at him when he’s fully grown and think, ‘I could kill this kid.’ What if I’m just like Jiaying?”

“Jiaying was tortured. She went mad,” Jemma said, keeping her tone matter-of-fact.

“And what if that happens to me? My powers are way more destructive than hers, I could—”

“Come here.” Jemma grabbed Daisy’s wrists and tugged.

“What are you doing? A hug is not going to fix this. I’m incredibly dangerous, Jemma. You were afraid of me once. It wasn’t that long ago.”

“You were afraid of yourself, too,” Jemma said, resolutely pulling until Daisy moved close to the edge of the bed. “Feet on the floor. Both feet. Like that. That’s good.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Daisy said. “I’m telling you—”

“I know how powerful you are. Who do you think has studied your abilities the most? Lean forward.” Jemma applied pressure against Daisy’s shoulder blade until Daisy obeyed. She pushed her head between her knees, and rubbed her back. “Breathe. Breathe in. Count to seven and hold it.”

Daisy’s back shook as her breath hitched, but she obeyed.

“Again,” Jemma said when Daisy began trembling in earnest. “Count in your head.”

Daisy’s back jerked, like she considered fighting Jemma and the order at the same time. Jemma dug in with her fingertips at a spot where she knew Daisy always carried a lot of tension. Her friend whimpered, and Jemma’s heart broke a little.

She’d wondered when Daisy would have her breakdown. With everything that had happened to him since searching for the Darkhold, it wasn’t any shock that their team had turned into a walking emotional minefield. Suburbia was a much needed change of pace, but it couldn’t disguise the fact that every single one of them had been wound so tightly they might squeeze themselves to death at any second.

Fitz had reached his limits first, and then Mack. May had been the one to surprise them all because they’d expected hers last.

Jemma had broken down in a grocery store, staring at the mangos and sobbing, such an incoherent mess than they’d nearly called the paramedics. A kindly stranger had understood enough to call Coulson, who’d collected her and Tony had taken them to an ice cream parlor until she’d felt brave enough to come home and face Daisy. To this day, she still wasn’t sure if it had been sleep deprivation from trying to keep up with a full time job and Tony’s schedule, or everything they’d been through.

One certainly hadn’t helped the other.

Through it all, Daisy had been there, cheerful and sarcastic. A natural with Tony. Bowling with Coulson, sparring with May. Helping Mack restore an old Thunderbird. Arguing about trivial things with Fitz simply to raise his ire so she could tease him and they would both laugh over it later. Movie nights with Elena and Mack. Tony had even begun to smile—a real smile—when she came to collect him in the mornings.

She probably told herself Jemma never noticed the moments where she stared at nothing, clearly disassociating. Or the nervous tic of worrying at scrapes on her hands. Or that she sometimes forgot what she was talking about in the middle of a sentence and switched topics entirely.

More and more pressure added to the unstable powder keg.

“Keep breathing,” she said now, as Daisy shuddered.

“Breathing isn’t going to make me any less dangerous.” But Daisy sounded a lot more lucid. And definitely peevish. But she kept breathing.

When she could feel Daisy truly relax after nearly twenty minutes of silence, Jemma stopped rubbing her back and scooted away, folding her legs into a half-lotus so she could rest her chin on her fists.

Slowly, Daisy sat up. She stared at the wall, jaw working.

You surprise me, Jemma wanted to tell her. She’d expected a breakdown over the way they’d become moms, rudely and unexpectedly and in a way they’d have to lie about to every stranger. Possibly flavored with the dawning realization that this was a permanent commitment. Or even something in response to knowing that in another timeline, she’d destroyed the world. Not this.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jemma asked.

Daisy closed her eyes and shook her head. She paused. Then she nodded. “I had a nightmare.”

That was the least surprising news Jemma had heard in weeks.

“An old one. I hadn’t had in a while. I _really_ didn’t miss it.” Daisy rubbed the side of her nose, tilting her head first one way and then another.

“It was about Jiaying?” Jemma said.

“That obvious, huh? Yeah, it’s the one where I’m back on the flight deck. I can’t get away and she’s trying to drain me. She turns into an actual vampire, like mwa-ha-ha spooky cape and everything. And whenever I wake up, I always feel a little dumb because why was that even scary to me? She looks like she belongs on a cereal box. But I just—” Daisy formed a fist and looked at it for a second before pushing it into her collarbone, near her heart. Like she could literally force the tension from her body that way. “In the moment it feels so real and so terrifying. I can usually pull myself out of nightmares, but not that one.”

Jemma picked up the glass of water from her own nightstand, holding it out. Daisy frowned at it, but balanced the glass on her knee without drinking.

“I woke up, and I saw the, you know.” She gestured vaguely at her own nightstand, where they’d set the baby monitor. Her voice sounded leagues older than the rest of her. “My first thought was, ‘thank god he’ll never have to see that his grandmother is a goddamn vampire.’ And then it occurred to me that Jiaying—she—” The words seemed to get stuck in her throat. She took a long drink, her movements jerky.

Jemma waited.

“What if I’m like her?” Daisy finally said.

“You’re not,” Jemma said. “You’ve got the biggest heart of anybody I’ve ever met, Daisy. You’re not like her at all.”

“She was, I don’t know, kind and stuff, though. Before they took her. My dad loved her. When he talked about her…” Daisy finished the water and shook her head fiercely. “Like it wasn’t bad enough that I’m a foster case who’s never had a stable family. When I _do_ find my parents, they’re the actual worst. Thanks for putting every single roadblock ever in my path, universe. You’re lucky, you know. You got to experience the idyllic childhood and all of that with two parents. And a sibling.”

“It wasn’t perfect for me, either. I was a child prodigy who was reading at my parents’ level when I was four, Daisy,” Jemma said. “It wasn’t anywhere approaching what you went through, but I still had challenges. I was out of the house at fourteen, you know.”

Daisy blinked. “That’s way too young,” she said.

“It likely was.” And it probably had everything to do with the fact that she didn’t have the closest relationship to her parents. Hell, they had no idea Tony even existed yet.

She’d have to tell them soon. The thought twisted in her stomach.

“How worried are you that you’ll hurt Tony?” she asked.

Daisy made a listless gesture with one hand. “Willingly? I’d never. But what if—what if something happens and I snap?”

“I’d stop you,” Jemma said.

Daisy leaned back. “You’re serious.”

“I understand your powers better than anybody else on the planet. If I thought you were a genuine threat to Tony, I’d remove the threat.”

She meant it to be reassuring—or as reassuring as it was possible for a death threat to be—but instead Daisy’s face went dark. “My dad had to stop my mom.”

Jemma reached out and took her hand. “History won’t repeat itself like that.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No? I’m pretty smart. A genius, even.” She forced a smile.

Daisy set the water glass on the floor—Jemma decided to let it go this once—and rubbed her face again. “Knowing my luck, the kid’s going to be even smarter than you and I’ll be outnumbered.”

“Oh, it’s likely.” Daisy’s statement was the feeblest attempt at humor Jemma had heard from her in a while, and it still made relief pour through her. “But I’ll be outnumbered in other ways. I think it’s just part of the laws of the universe.”

Daisy smiled tiredly. This was a side of her few got to see. The hair mussed from sleep, no makeup, in a soft tee and sleep shorts. Just as gorgeous as she was in her tactical suit or her civvies, but much, much softer.

Jemma pushed those thoughts away, deciding not to focus on how frequently they’d been happening lately. Proximity and a lack of satisfying her libido would do that. For now, she tightened her grip until Daisy looked over and met her eyes. “You should know that those things you think of as roadblocks,” she said, “made you who you are, and I happen to like that person very much.”

“Thanks.” Daisy’s throat worked. “Y-you know, you should probably get back to sleep. You’ve gotta be up at the headquarters in like three hours.”

“It’s fine.” Though Jemma knew tomorrow would require extra tea to survive. Tony had kept her up until well after midnight.

“I shouldn’t have even woken you up.” Daisy let out a little self-deprecating laugh.

Jemma decided it was kinder not to mention that even if Daisy hadn’t woken her up, the inevitable panic attack would have. She more than understood the embarrassment that followed any episode like that. She’d been through it a hundred times herself. Fitz, Daisy, Coulson, even May—especially May—had always given her _don’t be silly_ looks. Those proved less helpful than her friends thought, so Jemma didn’t bother to follow their example. Instead she tugged on the hand she still held.

“What?” Daisy asked, allowing herself to be pulled closer. “What’s going on?”

“You’re making it up to me for interrupting my sleep. The bed’s cold.”

“We’re…cuddling? Okay, we’re cuddling.” Daisy sounded absolutely baffled as she settled in. They’d talked about getting twin beds so they wouldn’t have to share—“Anything but bunk beds, that’ll just give me flashbacks to so many foster homes.”—but the house wasn’t permanent, so it didn’t seem worth it. Their sleep habits led to them usually waking up pressed together due to Daisy’s bed hog tendencies, but Jemma didn’t mind. Daisy’s presence, breathing loudly beside her, saved her from the terrible silence she feared.

But this was something altogether different. They normally stuck to their own sides of the bed when they retired for the night. Jemma had never scooted across the middle, nudging close to the crazy amount of body heat Daisy emitted. She wrapped an anchoring arm around Daisy’s stomach like she was some kind of stuffed animal. “Go back to sleep. No vampire dreams this time.”

“I’ll do my best.” Daisy’s voice seemed a little hoarse, but she sounded sincere. And she was no doubt wiped out from the panic attack, for her breathing slowed almost right away, replaced by the familiar wheezing that Jemma had grown to adore.

Jemma followed her into sleep not long after.

 

**_5\. Meet the Grandparents_ **

A beep from her computer woke her, making Daisy lift her head, groggily. Annoyance flicked through—she hadn’t wanted to fall asleep—but a glance at the clock on the nightstand told her that a “much needed” conversation had taken longer than Jemma had anticipated. No wonder she’d passed out.

Daisy rolled over and accepted the video call. Jemma’s face filled the screen, partially blocked by the tea mug she was sipping from.

She’d definitely been crying.

“Did I wake you?” she asked. “I waited until at least seven, I thought I did.”

“We relocated to Brisbane. It’s six here. And I’m kind of dealing with jet-lag, so May put off Tai Chi until eight.” Daisy yawned and cracked her neck, sitting up. As she stretched, Jemma looked away quickly and Daisy remembered that she hadn’t worn a shirt to bed. Jemma had seen her in her sports bra before. Strange. “How’d it go?”

“It’s hard to tell.” Jemma’s thumb traced around the rim of her mug. “Sheffield’s still standing, so there’s that.”

“Yay? How’s Tony?” Daisy asked. “Is he with you? Can I see him?”

“My mum’s looking after him for a couple minutes while I talk to you. All things considered, they took their daughter showing up on their doorstep with a three-month-old pretty well.”

Daisy grimaced. “I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you.”

“Don’t apologize for that. Our work is important.”

Jemma had been granted a couple weeks to take Tony to her parents’ in order to fill them in on everything, and for them to meet Tony. Daisy had been supposed to go along—she hadn’t been away from Tony for more than a night since they’d brought him back from the future—but a string of inhumans had popped up in Australia. So she’d headed off with May, and Jemma had flown across the Atlantic with a baby. By herself. She’d been texting Daisy pictures of Tony, but it just wasn’t the same.

“I told my parents as much as I was authorized to tell them,” Jemma said, going on when Daisy didn’t reply. “I’m not sure how much they believe.”

“Our lives are pretty out there.”

“Unfortunately, that’s very true. At least Tony seems to be a hit. He smiled for Jack.”

“And to think you insist it’s just reflex.”

“It _was_ reflex. You read those baby developmental books, you know just as well as I do that—”

“Simmons, I’m teasing,” Daisy said. Tony had been smiling at them for nearly a month.

Jemma’s grimace spoke volumes. “I told them the whole truth about Tony. All of it. Kasius, the lab, how they mixed our DNA to engineer him rather than either of us giving birth to him.”

“And how’d they take that?” Daisy asked, as she wasn’t sure she would believe it herself if she hadn’t lived it.

“There’s a strong chance they think it’s all bollocks, and that some random boyfriend got me pregnant and I don’t want to come clean. Mercifully, Tony definitely looks of Asian descent, or they’d be sure Fitz is the father. When I told them that, no, the other parent is named Daisy, I could actually see them wondering if Daisy is somehow a male name in America.”

“The manliest name,” Daisy said, feeling traitorously amused.

“If you’d managed to come along, they would definitely be able to see that Tony is your son, so there’s that, at least.”

“I shouldn’t brag about that so much, but he’s so damn cute, I feel like it’s necessary.” Daisy set the laptop on the nightstand so that she could stretch properly and begin getting ready for her day. She slanted a look at the computer. “Though the cuteness is only half my fault.”

Jemma, who had her chin propped up on her fist and a faraway look in her eye, didn’t reply.

“Earth to Simmons,” Daisy said. “I’m trying to compliment you here. Pay attention.”

“Sorry. I told my family that Fitz and I are through.”

That was a new development. When pressed before, Jemma had always responded that they were ‘taking a break’ or ‘working things out.’ This sounded way too final. Daisy’s stomach pitched. She chose not to comment for fear that she might give something away.

“How’d they take it?” she asked instead.

“To be honest, I think they’re a little relieved. You and I know what a sweetheart Fitz can be, but when people make him nervous, he can get…”

“A little bite-your-head-off-y?” Daisy asked.

“I was going to say ‘abrupt.’ He’s never meshed well with the Simmons family.” Jemma shook her head. “Mum and Dad both hugged me and said that it sounded like I had a much better thing with ‘Daisy.’” She made air quotes.

“I’m assuming you said it that way because they think I’m a dude.”

“That’s my parents for you.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “But that’s enough about me. Tell me about what’s going on with the inhuman candidates. Have there been any issues?”

Daisy filled her in on everything that had happened since they’d landed in Australia, down to Fitz and Hunter sneaking off to catch a soccer match together. Like they thought May wouldn’t know. The terrigenesis crystals had somehow gotten into a local brand of soft drinks, and they anticipated far more people going through the chrysalis in the upcoming days. Their team only planned to be on the ground for a few days, working with the Australian government to make sure facilities were in place to properly care for a new batch of inhumans. Daisy had been viewed as some sort of inhuman expert from the first meeting, which was seriously beginning to wig her out.

But she didn’t bring this up to Jemma. Instead, she asked how the flight with Tony had gone, and laughed at Jemma’s exasperated stories as she brushed her teeth. Even though half the world separated them, it felt like any other morning where they went about their routines, catching each other up on news as they prepared for the day.

It felt right.

When that thought sank in, Daisy had to pause as she pulled on her boots. Her throat felt suspiciously tight.

“What is it?” Jemma asked.

“Nothing.” I just miss you. She didn’t say it aloud.

Apparently, she didn’t need to, for Jemma’s expression turned fond. “Tony and I both miss you,” she said. “I wish you could be here. And I’m not saying that because I have an almost juvenile need to prove to my parents that you’re not some random guy I slept with that resulted in Tony.”

“Your loss. I am, despite my non-dudely status, quite the lay.”

Jemma, who’d been taking a sip of tea, abruptly choked and started coughing, her face turning bright red.

“Um, Simmons? Jemma?” Daisy leaned in worriedly.

“I’m f—I’m fine. Sorry. It just went…” Jemma gestured weakly at her throat as she continued to cough. “It just went down the wrong pipe. You caught me off-guard.”

“I can see that.” Daisy raised both eyebrows. “Doing okay?”

“Y-yes. I’m well.” But Jemma’s face remained bright red, all the way to the tips of her ears. “But I’ve left Mum with Tony long enough. I’ll send you some pictures, yes? And keep us in the loop. Have fun at Tai Chi!”

She logged off, leaving Daisy with a black screen. Daisy leaned back, frowning as she studied the laptop as though it would give her answers. That had been rather sudden, and all because of a rather dumb joke. It wasn’t even the first time Daisy had made such a quip. Jemma had always laughed or rolled her eyes in good humor. She’d never reacted with shock.

Unless…

Nah, it couldn’t be. Daisy shook her head. Jemma didn’t feel that way, and definitely not so soon after breaking things off with Fitz. She’d probably just swallowed wrong. That was all it was. Nothing worth reading into it.

 

**_+1. Tony-us Interruptus_ **

Though they’d assumed SHIELD would settle in Washington DC, coordinates for yet another secret base—which had apparently been the British SSR headquarters once upon a time—were retrieved from Fury’s toolbox. And the location proved far too ideal to ignore.

So at thirty-three weeks, Tony Johnson-Simmons found himself bundled up on the back of a quinjet, held in his mum’s arms while they crossed the Atlantic. He cried at the unfamiliarity of the hotel room, at teething pains, and at an ear infection, keeping both of his mothers awake all night. Because of this, and the medicine, he slept quite soundly the first time he was carried over the threshold of his new home in London.

They whispered as they took him back to the nursery, which already contained his crib (“It’s the Maserati of cribs, we’re not leaving it behind, Simmons.”) and all of his toys. Tony remained out cold until bath time, after which he was patiently wrestled into new pajamas, fed, and returned to his crib, lacking all curiosity about his new home. Being less than eight months old, he did not understand the concept of time zones. All he knew when he woke up the next morning was that his schedule had been disrupted, and he was not overly fond of that nonsense.

“You know what?” his mother said to his mum while Tony crawled around and cried on the nursery floor. Neither had moved to pick him up, which only frustrated him more. “It just occurred to me that he’s going to sound like you when he gets older. A posh little accent.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m from the midlands. He’ll have some type of London accent, for sure. If we stay here.”

Tony crawled a few feet more, planted himself at Mum’s feet, and sobbed pitifully until he was finally collected and cuddled.

“Softie,” Mom said.

“He’s had a hard day. Haven’t you, little one? Your ear hurts and your schedule’s disrupted. Life is so unfair.”

Tony, fascinated by the silly face his mum made, stopped crying and tried to reach for her earring.

“Best not,” Mum said. When Tony kept reaching for it, she firmly pushed his hand away from her ear. “No, Tony. You musn’t grab people’s ears.”

Thwarted, Tony let out a wail.

“He’s a bit like a niffler,” Mum said. “Once he sees something shiny—”

“Yeah, he zooms straight for it. Like Mack in an axe store.”

None of this meant anything to Tony beyond the comforting cadence of his mothers’ voices. They let him explore their new bedroom as they unpacked, though they retrieved one of Mum’s shoes before he could gum on it properly. He took great pleasure in pulling out shirts and socks from a bag Mom set in front of him, flinging them everywhere with abandon.

It took some time—a concept was wholly beyond his grasp—but Tony grew used to the house. He liked his new nanny, who took him to the park and taught him the SHIELD regulations all Koenigs learned when they were his age. Tony didn’t know what those words meant, singularly or together, but he stared in fascination whenever his nanny explained this to him in a bright, happy voice. He loved when Mom came home from work and dangled him in the air without touching him, which always rumbled through him and made him squeal. Mum scolded, but Mom laughed and caught him and presented him for inspection while he laughed like a little loon.

“Incorrigible, the both of you,” Mum said, and Tony liked the way Mom laughed.

Mom came home first every evening, scooping Tony up to blow raspberries on his belly and toss him about. Tonight, she wrinkled her nose, which inspired Tony to make the same face back at her. “Someone here stinks, big man, and it’s not me.”

Tony tried to gnaw on his own foot when she set him on the changing table. “Is that foot tasty?” Mom asked him, keeping one hand on his belly while she collected supplies with her other hand. “Do you like toe jam? Is that what it is?”

Tony blew a raspberry at her and drooled all over himself.

“You little heartbreaker,” Mom said. “You’re so lucky, you know. You’re the luckiest boy on the planet. Probably unlucky, too. Fifty-three percent of you came from me, and boy, that’s gonna cause you problems down the road, I just know it.”

She changed his diaper with practiced efficiency while she talked.

“But that other forty-seven percent came from the most amazing woman on the planet, and for that, my dude, you are the luckiest baby ever. Because you are half a Simmons, and she’s just so smart. And pretty, too, but you’ve got eyes. You can see that.”

She ringed her fingers around her eyes and made a face at him, and Tony giggled.

“And you’re going to grow up smart, just like her, and you’ll both make me feel like a dumb-dumb, but you know what? I don’t even care. That’s right. Don’t care.” She picked him up and held him overhead, tossing him. He kicked his feet happily. “Though let me give you some advice. If you get a crush on a girl, ask her out before your friend does. Make your move first. And then maybe you won’t be stuck in some horrible limbo, in love with your best friend. I mean, it might blow up spectacularly in your face, but that’s a risk we all have to take in life, isn’t it? Gosh, I hope you’re braver than me. Promise me you’ll do that, won’t you? Huh, big man? Huh?”

Tony giggled and shrieked, waving over Mom’s shoulder.

“Good enough for me. No point in getting you dressed again, not when you’re just gonna turn your dinner into a Jackson Pollock painting. Mwah.” With a smacking kiss, she set him on the floor next to his ring-tower. Then she turned and went absolutely still.

Tony gurgled and crawled over to Mum. She didn’t look down at him until he tugged on her slacks. She also didn’t say a word as she picked him up. Nor did she toss him. Tony tugged at her jacket.

Mom asked, “When did you get home?”

“Just now.” Mum brushed some of Tony’s hair back. “I—you—the baby monitor in the kitchen. It was on. I heard it as I came in.”

“Oh.”

Tony craned to look from one to the other. Why weren’t they smiling? Why wasn’t Mum playing with him? He’d had just enough of that, he decided, and let out a bellow.

“Tony, stop that. No. Don’t throw a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way for ten seconds.” Mum’s voice turned cross, and Tony glared at her. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring instead at Mom. “Is it true? What you said?”

Tony let out another bellow.

* * *

Jemma automatically leaned away as Tony shrieked in her ear, falling back on a hiccupping breath that told her angry tears were imminent. She opened her mouth to scold him, only for Daisy to pluck him out of her arms.

“We’re upsetting him,” Daisy said, not meeting Jemma’s eyes. “He needs dinner. Frankie said he only took half his bottle this afternoon. I’ll deal with it. You should go relax or something.”

But Jemma continued to stand in the doorway. Her head felt like it might disconnect itself from her body and float away. The words from the monitor kept playing back on a loop in her mind. _And then you’ll have made your move and you won’t be stuck in some horrible limbo, in love with your best friend._

Had she—did she—she couldn’t _possibly_ be talking about—

But Daisy refused to meet her gaze, carting Tony toward the dining room with a quickness she usually used to get out of washing the dishes. Jemma stared after her in complete bafflement.

Then she ran after her.

Part of this, or all of this, was her fault entirely. She’d felt guilty about not turning the baby monitor off, but it was always so adorable to listen to Daisy talk to Tony like he was just a small adult. She’d expected to hear a breakdown of Daisy’s day. Not anything like what she’d actually overheard. Certainly not a confession of love.

“Did you mean it?” she blurted out as Daisy reached into the cabinet where they kept all of Tony’s solid foods. “The bit about being stuck in limbo? Did you mean that?”

“Look, Simmons, it doesn’t have to change anything. Just forget about it.” Daisy slapped a jar of peaches on the counter. Tony jumped and swiveled to look at Jemma with wide eyes. At any other point in time, his startled face would be downright endearing.

Right now, she was too busy staring at the side of Daisy’s head. “Did you mean it?” She wanted to ask about everything she’d overheard, but for some reason, her mind focused only on that one question. She took a step closer. “Daisy. Did you mean it?”

“What if I did?” Daisy still refused to look at her, focusing instead on loading Tony into his high chair by the kitchen table. She buckled him in and carefully put on the tray, reminding him to watch his fingers as she clipped it into place. “What difference does it make, anyway? Yes, I meant it, but do your best to forget it. What we’ve got now is enough for me. Please.”

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” Jemma asked. The breathless cold that swept over her felt a little like an oncoming panic attack, but much nicer. She’d caught Daisy completely off-guard, for she leaned back slightly, tilting her head at Jemma in utter confusion.

Both of them flinched when Tony squealed and smashed his rattle down onto the tray.

Daisy recovered first. “Goddammit,” she said, and crossed the kitchen in two strides. She backed Jemma into the door jamb, crowding right into her space, and kissed her.

It was far gentler than Jemma anticipated. She could feel Daisy actually trembling under her hands, shaking like a leaf. In response, Jemma clutched her hips and pulled her closer, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She felt the hitch in Daisy’s breath before Daisy surged forward, kissing her so enthusiastically that Jemma felt her heart might actually burst. She broke the kiss off with a gasp.

Daisy didn’t move, anxiety written on every line of her face as she gazed at Jemma. Waiting for Jemma to shove her away, Jemma realized. It made her chest feel impossibly tight.

Instead, she bunched her hands in Daisy’s shirt and kissed her again, quickly. “No swearing in front of the baby,” she said.

Daisy laughed, a happy, bright sound that made Jemma’s heart sing. “I feel like what we’re doing right now is way more traumatic for him than some piddly little curse words,” she said.

As one, they turned to look at him. Tony’s head sat back on his neck at a comical angle as he gazed up at them, suspicion evident. When he noticed that he had their attention, the mistrust dropped away into a happy grin and a shriek. He pointed at them.

“Or maybe not that traumatic,” Daisy said.

“He’s too young to remember this. Unless he’s a child prodigy, and if so: we have bigger problems,” Jemma said, and pulled her close again.

* * *

A patch of sunlight filtered through the curtains and crept its way across the mattress, slowly moving over tiny feet—only one still bearing its sock—to pudgy legs and arms encased in a soccer onesie. Tony blinked awake when the light fell over his eyes. For a second, he considered crying. But he found rolling over to be much more interest, so he did that, flopping over onto his belly and letting out a pleased little noise. He scooted over on his belly to the edge of the playpen, peering through the mesh out into the living room beyond.

He could see his mothers on the couch. For a second, he stayed on his belly, entranced by the color and the fact that neither of them moved. His mother was propped up on the pillows, head back at an angle. Mum lay on top of her, tangled up so much that they looked like one person. She had one hand dangling to the floor.

Mom wheezed in her sleep so loud that it made Tony jump. Instead of crying, he began to giggle. Mum began to stir, craning her neck to look over her shoulder at Tony. He waved, and she smiled back at him.

“Daisy,” she said, poking Mom when she kept snoring.

“What? Huh?” Mom yawned. “I’m guessing the little dude’s awake.”

“That he is.”

Tony babbled a happy string of syllables as Mum detangled herself and came over to pick him up. She swung him around and put him on her hip so they could both study Mom together. Mum poked her and she groaned, pulling a pillow over her head. Tony began cackling with glee when he was deposited unceremoniously on her stomach and she made an _oof_ noise. He crawled up to tug the pillow free while Mum laughed.

“Okay, okay,” Mom said, laughing and hugging Tony to her chest. “I get it. You win. Naptime’s over. Help me up, would you?”

Tony had no idea what she was saying, but that didn’t matter to him: he gurgled his approval as Mum laughed and helped them both off of the couch, one more naptime behind them.


End file.
